Kayaking Safety - The EssentialsWatch this short video to learn how youcan insure that your paddling experiencewill be relatively safe for all involved.Training Canoe Newbies Over the years, Cliff Jacobson has formed afew tests to get new canoeists ready to run whitewater rivers. Read all about them.

Weekend field trips were the bane of my student
years, and this one was no exception. Our class stood in an opening in a lush
woodland, high above a fast-flowing mountain river. The late-summer sun felt
warm on my face, and my mind drifted away from the professor's lecture about
the weathered limestone outcrop in front of us. I was looking at the rushing
water, instead, reading the
river, figuring out how I could thread my kayak through the rock garden
and swirling
eddies below me. And I wasn't the only student whose thoughts weren't on
the professor's words, either. Dave had also drifted away. He stood next to
me, plucking idly at any vegetation within reach and systematically stripping
the leaves from each stem that came to hand.

Suddenly, he turned toward me, brandishing his latest trophy. A woody stalk
bearing three bright red leaflets dangled from his hand. "Real pretty leaves,
huh?" he whispered, waving them before me like a magic wand.

I lifted my eyes from the dancing water, only to jerk back when I saw the
scarlet leaflets. "Are you crazy, Dave?" I blurted. "That's poison ivy you've
got there!"

Dave's face fell. He tossed the stalk away. Then he wiped his fingers on
his jeans. But it didn't help. By Monday, Dave's wrists and hands were covered
in an itchy red rash. And he wasn't alone. Other member of my class had also
found the lure of the red leaves too hard to resist. For a couple of weeks
afterward, there was a whole lot of scratchin' goin' on in my geology class.

Discussions of whitewater hazards don't often mention poison ivy. Maybe
they should. After all, both poison ivy and poison oak are common sights along
riverbanks, and they've been bedeviling travelers in the backcountry of North
America since the days of Captain John Smith, one of the founders of the
Jamestown colony in Virginia. He penned what may well have been the earliest
description of the plant, pointing out its resemblance to English "Yvie" but
warning would-be botanists that it "causeth redness, itchynge, and finally
blysters." That was four centuries ago, yet poison ivy is still claiming new
victims. Farwell's uncle once used a handful of the stuff as a substitute for
toilet paper on a family camping trip. Needless to say, he didn't repeat his
mistake. Many others do, however. Every year. And not a few of these hapless
victims are paddlers, caught short
by an irresistible urge while scouting a drop
from shore or simply taking a lunch break by the river.

What's the remedy? As Louis Pasteur observed, "fortune favors the prepared
mind," and there's no better preparation than learning to

Know the Enemy

Poison ivy and poison oak are look-alike cousins, members of the same
family of plants, a group that also embraces the mango, the sumacs, and the
pistachio. Taxonomists argue over their proper scientific names and correct
classification. There's even a dispute over the common names, with some
authorities favoring the hyphenated "poison-oak" and "poison-ivy," supposedly
to emphasize that neither is a true ivy, the same point made by Captain John
Smith in the early 1600s. Poison ivy and poison oak don't just look alike,
however; the sap and tissues of both plants also contain urushiol, a potent
allergen. While a lucky minority of folks  estimates range between 15
and 30 percent of the population  are immune to urushiol's irritating
effects, the rest of us are only a quick brush away from contact dermatitis,
the all-too-familiar itchy red rash. Do you think you're one of the lucky
ones? Don't count on it. Immunity waxes and wanes throughout life, so you may
not be as safe as you imagine. And don't think that the danger ends with the
first hard frost and the fall of the leaf. Even long-dead poison ivy or poison
oak plants still contain urushiol.

OK. Poison ivy and poison oak are similar. But how do you spot them in the
backwoods? Here's a short course, beginning with

Poison Ivy. The photo on the
left shows a typical leaf  yes, this in only one leaf, a compound
leaf comprising three leaflets  but don't be deceived: poison ivy is a
chameleon among plants. Sometimes it's a climbing vine. Sometimes it's a
shrub. And occasionally it's a ground-dwelling creeper. Sometimes the
trifoliate leaves are as small as a child's hand; at other times they're
bigger than a legal pad. What about the individual leaflets? No joy, I'm
afraid. Sometimes they're thin and smooth, but they're often leatherlike and
hairy.

Confusing? You bet. But at least the leaflets are always green, right?
Wrong! Sometimes the leaflets are yellow, red, or maroon. In fact, poison ivy
can be the brightest spark in the late-summer or early-autumn woods. Get the
picture? No? Then here's the key to the mystery, a jingle from my childhood:
Leaflets three, let it be. Simple and to the point. If the plant you
see before you has three-part compound leaves, and if there are no thorns on
the stalk, it's probably poison ivy (or poison oak, but we'll get to that in a
minute). This little jingle isn't foolproof. The innocuous box elder also has
three-part compound leaves, and a few poison ivy plants have five-part
leaves, but the jingle's a pretty good guide for all that  almost
fail-safe.

Is it late in the year? Have all the leaves gone? Don't worry. You can
still avoid poison ivy. Just heed the second part of the old jingle:
Berries white, danger in sight. It's less often heard, but no less
important. Other plants have white berries, but this is as good a late-autumn
field mark as you're going to find without becoming an amateur botanist. Give
any plant that sports white berries a wide berth, and you'll likely miss
falling victim to poison ivy. (Curiously, the white berries are a favorite
food of many birds, including the ruffed grouse. This is a case of one
species' poison being another's meat, I guess.)

Do you paddle Western waters? Then maybe you've heard that poison ivy is an
Eastern plant, and you figure you've got one less thing to worry about. Well,
I hate to break the bad news, but it ain't necessarily so. It's true that
poison ivy is more common east of the Rockies, but it gets around. (Birds help
to spread the seeds.) And western paddlers have their own nemesis

Poison Oak. Actually, at least
one type of poison oak is also found in the East, but there's no need to get
too deep into taxonomic quibbles. And poison oak, too, is a chameleon among
plants. You can see a typical trifoliate leaf here, but remember that
"typical" means just that  and no more. Like its cousin, poison oak is
wonderfully diverse. In fact, it goes poison ivy one better, producing berries
that are green, white, or tan. Still, the same jingle provides a good first
step in your strategy of avoidance. Leaflets three, let it be. And
leave the rest to the experts. That's the safest course.

Suppose, however, that you follow the rules and still find yourself
scratching. You're sure to ask yourself

Where Did I Go Wrong?

The possibilities are legion and as variable as the plants themselves.
Urushiol is a good traveler. It can get on your skin when you pet your dog
 or when you pull off your wellies
after a hard
bushwhack or long
portage. A few unlucky paddlers have even thrown poison ivy on their evening
campfires. This is (to borrow a phrase from George Orwell's Nineteen
Eighty-Four) double-plus ungood. Inhaling urushiol droplets suspended in
smoke is guaranteed to make you miserable. It can also land you in the
hospital. The moral of the story? Be especially careful what you burn,
as well as when and
where. Or else.

Most often, however, backwoods carelessness will only result in contact
dermatitis, and simple measures will be enough to get you through a siege. If
you're already staring at an itchy red rash, and you think poison ivy or
poison oak is the culprit, your next question is almost certainly going to
be

What Can I Do About It?

Thorough washing with soap and water is recommended in many first-aid
textbooks, and that's good advice, but it has to be done within minutes of
exposure to be of any value. (And plain water will probably just spread the
irritating oil.) In any case, by the time the rash appears it's far too late
to wash away your troubles. You'll just have to let the misery run its course.
But at least you don't need to worry about the fluid from the blisters. It
doesn't contain urushiol, and it won't exacerbate the rash.

In the meantime, you'll want to do something to ease the itch. Calamine
lotion is a time-honored treatment, and it works for some. Cool saltwater
compresses may also help  they're an obvious choice for sea kayakers
 and topical steroids are often used, as well: Medicine for
Mountaineering recommends 0.25 percent hydrocortisone cream, though
only when applied to "limited areas." Of course, steroids aren't a good idea
for everyone. Better talk to your doctor first. When all is said and done,
however, many sufferers find these cures worse (or at least more troublesome)
than the disease itself, and they reluctantly decide to tough it out. Just
don't scratch! That invites infection. In a few days, the itch will lessen. In
a week or so, the rash will only be a memory. But be warned: Serious cases
 inhalation, widespread rash, intense itching  may require
systemic steroid therapy. This goes well beyond the limits of backcountry
first aid, so see a pro ASAP.

Whatever you do to treat your itch, don't neglect your clothes and gear.
Urushiol is as patient as it is persistent. If you don't get all of it off the
things you wear (and handle), you could find yourself itching again, many
weeks after you thought you'd seen the last of your rash. A wash in a bucket
of strong detergent solution is probably the best bet to clean your kit.

For most paddlers, most of the time, poison ivy and poison oak are
avoidable nuisances. And that's a good thing. Who wants an itchy rash as a
souvenir of any trip  let alone as a traveling companion? So bring your
practical botany up to scratch. Leaflets three? Then let it be! Just
remember this little ditty and you'll be fine.